


Better Together

by ConcentratedMatter



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 08:32:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13454427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConcentratedMatter/pseuds/ConcentratedMatter
Summary: Nott is hurt. Caleb takes care of her and reflects on their friendship.





	Better Together

**Author's Note:**

> It has been many years since I last wrote some fanfiction. Nott and Caleb's relationship made me want to write again.  
> I hope you enjoy.

A thick, knobby tree root hidden underneath the snow made Caleb stumble forward as he tried to find his way through the underbrush in the direction of the campsite. His breathing was laboured and his arms burned due to the load he was carrying. He quickly readjusted his grip by hoisting the bundle up higher towards his shoulder. Nott’s hot breath fogged against the side of his cheek as the small goblin let out a whimper in response to the sudden movement. He stole a quick glance at the girl’s face, but her eyes were still firmly closed and her form unresponsive. He frowned in concern, but continued forward; his boots cold and wet, sliding against the snowy ground.

 

Looking out through the frozen forest, a memory flitted across his mind. As a kid, Caleb had once spent an entire afternoon watching the snow fall outside his window, fantasizing about building his own snow castle out in the fields. A place where he could be himself, just for him alone, with rooms made of ice and enchanted snowmen that did his every bidding. 

Half-frozen fingers clutching at Nott’s cloak, he couldn’t help share that same fantasy now in this place, over two decades later. The trek back towards camp would certainly have required a lot less effort with a magical snowman by his side to help carry his burden. He wiped the visual from his thoughts when at last he noticed the small clearing up ahead in between the stark, dark trees. Only a few more moments and they would be safe. Or as safe as could reasonably be expected alone in the woods. Their campsite was up ahead.

 

Caleb stumbled into the clearing, his boots kicking up a cloud of white snow dust in front of him. The overturned tree was right up ahead, and his pack still lay waiting in the hollow of the trunk. His heart hammered in his ears as he shrugged off his cloak with some effort, juggling Nott, before carefully laying down the small goblin girl on the cloak.

He held his hand on the side of her face and found she was warm and clammy, but when he grabbed one of her hands they felt cold and lifeless. He wrapped her up in the rest of his cloak, which was big enough to drown her in. He leaned back and retrieved his pack from inside the trunk and started rummaging through its contents while muttering some choice curse words under his breath.

 

From the bottom of his pack he managed to retrieve a fairly clean handkerchief and an old scarf. He grabbed the waterskin from his belt and unscrewed the top before quickly and somewhat clumsily trying to wash some of the layers of grime from his hands. He then wiped them on the inside of his jacket and moved over next to Nott.

He unwrapped part of the cloak and turned the still-unresponsive girl over to her left so he could take a good look at her other side, right below her ribs. There was a gash all the way through her cloak and shirt, and Caleb unbuttoned the lower half of the garment so he could see underneath. The wound was fresh and weeping and was fairly long, moving diagonally from her right side - at a similar height as her belly-button - up and towards just below her sternum. Caleb unfolded the handkerchief, grabbed it with both hands, and using his teeth, ripped the fabric in half in one smooth motion.

 

His hands deftly searched along Nott’s leather belt. He found her short sword and then her small hand-crossbow - which he both set aside - and then landed on her flask. He opened it, took a whiff to verify the contents before dumping part of the strong-smelling-liquid on the torn handkerchief. He set aside the flask and kneeled down closer to Nott to delicately clean the wound with the alcohol-infused material. As soon as the white fabric touched the wound it darkened as the blood seeped into it. Nott stirred and let out a short, strangled moan. Her bulbous, yellow eyes briefly fluttered open before her head lolled back to the side and unconsciousness quickly took her once more.

Caleb cleaned the wound as quickly and thoroughly as he felt warranted, and to his relief he noticed the cut wasn’t nearly as deep as he had feared. He used the second half of the fabric to pad the wound and tied the whole thing off with the scarf, which was long enough to easily wrap three times around Nott’s torso. He carefully bundled her up again in his large, filthy traveling cloak and gently returned her to a more comfortable position. He stared at her in silence for a few moments, absentmindedly wiping his hands on his jacket. He noticed her shallow breathing, but after a little while the breaths seemed to even out a bit. The lines of pain in her face slowly relaxed. Caleb sank back down against the tree trunk, filled with relief and gratitude.

 

A couple of moments passed before a soft  _‘Meow?_ ’ stirred him from his thoughts. In his haste he hadn’t realised he had completely forgotten to dismiss Frumpkin after the fight. The cat fixed him with a silent, calm stare from the top of the tree trunk. Caleb offered his friend a tired grimace and then glanced at his hands. Caked partly in dark blood, his fingers were numb and cold. He noticed suddenly that while he had been sitting there, the layer of snow on the ground had managed to seep into his trousers and had chilled him considerably. With some effort he willed his limbs back in action and heaved himself in an upright position. He nodded towards the sleeping goblin girl.

 

“Keep a look-out while I go look for some firewood, hm?”

 

The cat silently acknowledged his master’s command by hopping in between the folds of the cloak in Nott’s lap, perfectly happy to keep the small girl company. Caleb walked towards the edge of camp and, looking back at the two of them, hoped the cat’s presence would perhaps at least warm Nott up a little.

 

Scouring the underbrush, Caleb made a circle in the area around the camp. He kicked around the snow to search the detritus underneath and slowly managed to gather up some fallen branches. As he continued his search, he began noticing the ache in hands and in his back, and the heaviness of his tired limbs. As he discarded a short piece of wood that was much too wet, a wave of annoyance suddenly washed over him.

 

He was a wizard. A cold and tired wizard, searching the forest floor for firewood as evening was quick approaching. He should be able to just snap his fingers and make a large fire dance across the ground: a contained, cozy blaze to light their camp, cook their food and warm their hearts. But no. The only fire spells he knew would blow away half their camp, scorching the earth and burning bright before extinguishing just as suddenly. Such a violent, chaotic display would sooner injure both of them than help warm their bodies and soothe their aches. Worse yet, he realized that even if he did know such a useful spell, he did not nearly have the stamina left to bend any such arcane energy to his will right now.

 

He kicked against a rock and it went flying, skidding in between the bushes. The sound bounced between the trees, dampened by the snow. He looked up at the sky, grey clouds churning high above; stormy weather announcing its arrival. His face was a grim mask for a moment. Eventually he sighed and returned his attention back towards the earth. Gradually, new snowflakes were drifting down to join the layer of white at his feet. He gathered all the branches on his shoulder and headed back towards Nott and Frumpkin.

 

Without his coat on he was getting quite chilled. It was much colder than he had expected, even though he was still wearing his long scarf and heavy, worn-out, jacket. After unloading the firewood on the ground in front of the fallen tree trunk, he brushed away the new layer of fallen snow from last night’s fire-pit. He rubbed his hands together and then tried to warm his numb fingers by blowing hot breaths into his balled fists. When he felt a little bit of life return in his fingertips, he searched his pack for his flint and steel. He subsequently gathered up some dry tinder by scraping his dagger across the bark of one of the dry birch branches.

Striking the flint against the old, steel fire striker, he made numerous unsuccessful attempts to light the little bit of kindling he had created. His fingers, now thoroughly cold and frozen, became less and less responsive as his efforts failed him. His numb hands started fumbling the flint. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, when he could no longer feel his buttocks and felt like he might grow root in that very spot and never get up again, he let out a loud groan of frustration and angrily chucked the flint and steel away from him.

 

Frumpkin looked up from where he had been sitting on Nott’s lap and tilted his head to the side in a quizzical manner. Caleb pointedly ignored him, rolled up both of his sleeves and then dug around in his component pouch for the diamond. His hand soon found the small, hard gem and he briefly held it up to the darkening sky. The snow reflected off of it in a million different dazzling ways, but instead of admiring its beauty Caleb just frowned deeply and… concentrated. He could somehow still feel the small fizzle of energy deep down in his body, ignited perhaps by desperation, and he took effort to slowly tempt it out and give it a focus.

He carefully moved the diamond towards the small pile of kindling and gradually a deep, dark orange glow formed in the middle of the clear material. He breathed on the outside of the diamond, and a tiny, clear flame sprang forth. It danced briefly across the tinder, before it instantly ignited the rest of the firewood with an audible ‘woosh’.

Caleb dropped his hands by his sides and let out a shaky laugh. He looked over towards Frumpkin who had sat up approvingly. The cat mewed, kneaded his little paws into the fabric below him, turned a couple of times for good measure, and settled down once again, sinking deep into Nott’s lap; warm and comfortable.

 

* * *

 

Caleb turned the page of his book as the fire winked and danced in front of him. The wind had picked up, but the snowing had stopped at least. Perhaps the stormy weather would mostly pass them by yet. He set aside his book, leaned forward and took a large wooden spoon, old and blackened, strapped to the side of his pack to stir the concoction inside the small pot sitting in the fire. The water frothed and bubbled, and a distinctive, acetic smell wafted over the camp. He methodically began to fish the dark, shrunken leaves out of the liquid before straining them above the pot. Nott stirred.

Caleb looked over towards her. He had taken the time to properly set up camp; he had added a small wind guard of sticks around the fire and had rolled out their bedrolls to buffer them against the coldness of the ground. Although he had resettled the goblin on the soft padding of the woolen sheets, he hadn’t had the heart to get his coat back. Nott had soon settled into a deep sleep, her breathing slow but clear, her little arm unconsciously wrapped around Frumpkin. Her sharp claw-like nails were tangled in the cat’s fur, but he didn’t seem to mind, lazily napping by her side.

 

Caleb continued the straining process for a few minutes, slowly emptying the pot of its leaves, when behind him he finally heard a soft, hesitant voice:

 

“...What’s that?”

 

Caleb smiled to himself.

 

“Milfoil. Or yarrow.” He answered, but then paused to consider the goblin’s knowledge; “Or Bloodwort, if you prefer.” His voice was soft and low, his tone betraying his relief at Nott’s awakening. He strained the last of the leaves and stirred the liquid once more before taking the pot off the fire. He cast a quick look at his companion.

Nott had carefully propped herself up in a half-sitting position, a brief grimace flickered across her face as she gripped one hand tightly against her right side. Frumpkin had jumped up and away from her on the fallen tree, and was carefully cleaning his paws, his back turned to the fire.

 

Caleb poured the strained liquid in a large mug, leaned back and held it out to Nott. While her eyes had been slightly unfocused and sleepy only a few moments before, they now were sharp and clear as she eyed the liquid suspiciously.

 

“It’ll help,” Caleb motioned towards the hand she was using to grip her side, “with all of that.”

 

“Oh... okay.” Nott answered and gingerly reached out to take the mug, her small hands barely large enough to fit around it. The hot liquid steamed in the cold night air, and Nott quickly sniffed at it. Her face betrayed a clear lack of enthusiasm - but when her eyes found Caleb’s again, a look of determination appeared instead. She took a cautious first sip, careful not to burn her tongue, and frowned.

 

“I know it’s bitter. I would have added some honey if we had it, but we don’t.” Caleb said, putting the rest of the mixture in an empty flask before cleaning out the pot. He then padded it with fresh snow and returned it to the fire in order to make some tea. He rummaged through his pack to look for the small tin filled with tea leaves, but paused halfway through the process. A silence hung in the air between them as the fire crackled and sputtered. He looked back at Nott again, who met his gaze.

 

“I’m glad you’re alright.” He said softly. The effect was immediate as Nott’s face fell in response, a look of sadness filled her eyes before she closed them. When she finally opened them again, she was staring down hard at her hands which were now tightly gripping her mug.

 

“I’m sorry.” She said, but Caleb already began shaking his head. Before he could interrupt she continued; “I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.” She looked up, anxiety radiating from her small form. “... Sorry.”

 

“There is no need for apologies, Nott.” Caleb said carefully. “It was my fault, really. I should have been paying more attention.”

 

He fished the tea tin out of his bag. “It would be better if you would allow me to help with those type of endeavours, however. Perhaps a little heads up.” He paused to smile in an effort to reassure her before he continued, wanting to impress upon her the importance of what he said next; “You know we’re better together.”

 

However, as the words left his lips he suddenly doubted them. Images from the fight haunted him. The angry shouts from the farmstead. The sound of the vase as it shattered against the ground. The man lashing out with the long, curved dagger and Nott stumbling back, dark blood spraying the white snow below her.

His heart had filled with such fear then. And anger. He had completely failed to protect his companion. Perhaps his word now rung hollow to him because they weren’t true. Perhaps they were not at all better together… Certainly, Caleb was better for having Nott, but maybe Nott needed more than just him.

 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.” He mumbled, staring at the old, dented tea tin in his hands. Nott seemed to be able to understand the words he left unsaid and she quickly replied; “Are you kidding? You were amazing you were!” Her words were enthusiastic, but her voice still sounded weak.

 

Caleb shook his head, “We barely got out. I could only scare them off a little. Had they made any real effort to follow us we’d be as good as dead right now.”

 

Nott let out a tired, shaky laugh. “You whispered a few words and wham! Bam! I think you blew at least three of them away. They went flying!”

 

Caleb’s mouth was a thin, straight line as he chewed the inside of his lip, unconvinced. Nott tried to sit up a bit more, but soon sank back down when the effort proved too painful. Her face betrayed a pointy-toothed grin, however; “You set two barns on fire.”

 

When Caleb looked at her face, he saw the clear, open admiration in her big, focused eyes. He couldn’t help but smile softly in response. “... I hadn’t planned on quite that much destruction.”

 

“Amazing!” Nott said, before grinning at him nervously; “I don’t know much of what happened after that, but I’m sure it cannot been good! ... For them, I mean.”

 

She searched his face for a response, and Caleb kicked himself mentally. Nott had been through quite the ordeal; she needed rest and healing. Yet here she was trying to cheer  _him_ up. He turned back towards the fire and poured the boiling water into his waiting mug.

 

“Well, we’re safe and alive, that’s what matters.” He said. He added the tea leaves to a small brass strainer and dropped it in his mug. He motioned towards Nott’s drink. “You should finish that. It’ll help with the wound healing, and stave off any early infections. When you’ve emptied your cup, I’ll make you something nicer.”

 

Nott made a face, but continued to take a few big gulps from her mug. She eyed him questioningly; “How do you know about all those things? About the wound healing and such?”

 

Caleb set aside his mug and patted the cover of the small, leatherbound book he had put down earlier. “It’s all in here.”

 

“That book’s about... Milfoil?” Nott asked, surprised. Caleb noted she had easily remembered the plant’s name, although he was pretty sure she hadn’t ever heard the herb been referred to as such before. Although the goblin girl might frequently display her general lack of education, more than anything he had found that Nott had a great capacity for learning. She was an eager student, who could at times fib over the gaps in her knowledge by liberally applying her quiet, cunning intelligence.

 

“It’s about all kinds of herbs and plants.” Caleb replied, taking the book into his hands. The cover was grimy with dirt, and he used part of his right sleeve to polish some of it off.

 

“So, it like tells you what kinds are safe to eat and stuff?” Nott asked. She blew on her Milfoil tea through cracked lips and then tentatively took another sip. Caleb knew she would finish the drink to the last drop, he had no doubt. Nott unequivocally trusted his judgement. It scared Caleb a little bit sometimes.

 

“It teaches about those plants that are edible, or those that can heal.” Caleb said. He thumbed through the book, stopping on a particular page. “... or those that can kill.” His eyes scanned the passage.

 

“Of course, many plants can do both.” He held up the book so Nott could see. The page contained a small, though detailed drawing of the dark, long leaves and gray-green bark of a white willow tree.

 

“Salix alba,” Caleb explained, “it will soothe your aches and lower fevers, but excessive consumption can lead to deadly stomach bleeding.” Nott studied the drawings seemingly intrigued by the idea. She looked off towards the trees at the outskirts of their little clearing; tall, stark, hulking shadows slowly swaying in the wind barely illuminated by the campfire. She was silent for a little while.

 

“So a bit too much of a good thing can be a bad thing?” Nott broke the silence. Her tone was seemingly light, but it slightly hinted at a certain type of sadness underneath. She tried to hide her thoughts by quickly frowning at her mug in an elaborate manner. Caleb offered her a lopsided smile, only replying to her latter insinuation. “While there is an almost universal truth to that, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about an overconsumption of yarrow quite yet.”

 

She smiled at him and returned her gaze towards the trees. He let her be. He thumbed through the book some more before finally setting it down to poke at the fire. Nott finished her drink and Caleb shared his tea with her like he had promised. Although she took a quick few sips to wash away the taste of the yarrow, she soon abandoned the mug beside her bedroll, no longer thirsty. They sat in companionable silence for a while, both thinking about different things.

Something rustled in the underbrush and both of their eyes were drawn to Frumpkin who walked back into the circle of campfire light, having stalked off in the dark unnoticed while they had been talking. The cat briefly stretched in front of the fire before walking over towards Nott and climbing back up on her lap.

 

“Hi Frumpky…” Nott mumbled. Her voice sounded tired. She began stroking the cat’s head, her little goblin fingers moving in a slow, rhythmic pattern. Before long, Frumpkin’s low, soothing purr filled the air around them. Caleb added some sticks to the campfire, and from the corner of his eye he noticed how Nott’s head scratches slowed until her head begun lolling and she gradually started nodding off again.

 

As the clouds passed overhead, obscuring the moon from view, the wind gradually began dying down. Caleb made sure the fire was well fed and observed the two creatures across from him; his companions. So perfectly content in each others presence. It was dark, and cold, with snow all around them, but they were a picture of comfort in the orange, dancing light cast by the crackling fire. He suddenly knew that despite their barren circumstances, he couldn’t possibly ask for more. A weird feeling of contentment washed over him, and he knew they’d be alright.

He wrapped the woolen blanket around him tightly and leaned back against the tree to settle in for the cold night and to keep a watchful eye on their surroundings. He thought about all the adventures he and Nott had shared since the day he had met her. 

 

_Too much of a good thing can be a bad thing._

Well, if today had been the bad thing, it meant they could survive it. Together. The three of them were a good thing, and he vowed to himself that as long as he was around, he would do everything in his power to prevent Nott from ever seeing the bad again.


End file.
